


Hairless Surprise

by a_belladonna



Category: Astérix le Gaulois | Asterix the Gaul & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:28:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26730640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_belladonna/pseuds/a_belladonna
Summary: The architect Anglaigus realizes something very attractive about the centurion Oursenplus. Set during "Le Domaine des Dieux"/"Mansion of the Gods".
Relationships: Oursenplus/Anglaigus, perhaps implied Oursenplus/Cubitus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7
Collections: Season of Kink





	Hairless Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2020 Season of Kink, using the prompt "Shaving". Beta-read by Liz_mo – thank you! Also thanks to my friend J for general feedback (though the title was _his_ idea!) :P

Anglaigus was at his wits' end. The damn trees regrew every night, the slaves were uncooperative, the legionaries a bunch of superstitious, illiterate cowards and the centurion did not do enough to support him at all.

Sure, he'd had a brush with the Gauls (and their dog) himself, but these guys were trained to fight! And yet they cowered.  
When he first arrived from Rome, he'd felt uneasy around them. Hardened, experienced warriors (at least some of them), veterans from Caesar's battles against the Gauls. Fearsome types, with scars and all. He'd noticed the looks they'd given him, a scrawny, long-haired civilian. And then it turned out they'd rather do as little as possible, staying in their camp and preferring household chores over fighting the Gauls.  
Where ever he looked, they were endlessly cutting carrots or doing laundry instead of subduing the barbarians. 

This was why he was stalking towards the centurion's tent this early morning, intent on giving that big oaf a piece of his mind, instead of just going to his own tent to get a few hours sleep after working the entire night. Or, well, perhaps 'oaf' could be open for debate. Apparently Oursenplus was of good family and literate. But that didn't change the fact that he seemed like he'd given up before it had all begun.

"Centurion, we need to talk!" Anglaigus exclaimed, entering the tent.  
And promptly stopped in his tracks. He hadn't expected to walk in on the other man's morning toilette, to put it that way. And he certainly hadn't expected to walk in on the man wearing nothing but his underpants.  
And he most certainly hadn't expected the man to possess _that_ kind of body underneath his uniform.  
Anglaigus didn't know what he'd expected, actually. Perhaps that the centurion was sort of doughy and chubby and everything had been kept in place by the cuirass.  
Not that he'd actually have the body of someone who'd spent most of his adult life in the army. Not with the kind of attitude he'd shown towards the Gaulish question.

Anglaigus gaped a little, not knowing what to say. Oursenplus carefully wiped his razor and turned to face him.  
"Yes?" he said, surprisingly good-natured considering another person had just stormed into his tent while he was busy shaving.  
Anglaigus swallowed, as it became rather obvious to him that the centurion hadn't just shaved his beard but had been shaving all over. His gaze flickered to the crotch. Had the centurion also...there? His mouth suddenly felt dry. He knew of rumours, had heard stories, that soldiers could be quite meticulous about hair removal for hygienic reasons – no hair, no lice, that much was obvious, even for a civilian such as himself. But still, he had thought it was just an urban legend, it was not something _real_ men did, only actors, concubines, prostitutes and the like. Effeminate, honourless types. And queer little fucks such as himself. Not something someone as big and, well, manly as the centurion would do.  
His mind was overflowing with images of Oursenplus carefully, meticulously, shaving off his bush. He blinked. Shook his head slightly. Tried with all his might to remember what it was he originally wanted to say.  
"Yes?" Oursenplus repeated, a little more impatiently. "Surely you didn't just barge into my tent to gape like a fish dragged on land?"  
"No!" he exclaimed, remembering. "I wanted to talk about the situation with the slaves! The situation's unbearable!"  
Meanwhile the centurion went and sat down in a chair, apparently not in any hurry to get dressed.  
"Haven't we already been through this a thousand times?" he asked, supporting his head in one hand.  
"Yes! But it seems it has had trouble penetrating that skull of yours!" Anglaigus nearly shouted, stalking over to stare at him, nose to nose.

Only to realize that that particular move seemed to work a lot better when the other person wasn't sitting there half naked. He was in fact acutely aware that he was inches away from a broad, naked chest, still glinting a bit from the oil that had been used for the shaving.  
He swallowed. Oursenplus looked up at him with those round, oddly soft, brown eyes of his.  
"I already told you, architect, the Gauls."  
Anglaigus placed his hands on the centurion's shoulders and took a deep breath. Closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the feeling of the warm skin and the muscles shifting ever so slightly underneath his hands. Focus. Focus, he told himself. Focus on the removal of the trees. Removal. Removal of hair, removal of clothes...bodies pressed against each other, smooth, hairless skin...  
He bit his lower lip and opened his eyes again, only to meet Oursenplus' concerned stare.  
"Are you feeling quite all right?" he asked. They were still nose to nose.  
"Y-yes," Anglaigus replied, not moving an inch.  
A fly buzzed around on the ceiling of the tent. He could hear the footsteps and voices of the cooking crew outside. And he could feel Oursenplus' breath against his cheek.  
"To me it seems you got distracted by something," Oursenplus pointed out. "Or someone. Isn't that so?"  
I'm a nice boy of good family, Anglaigus thought. Whatever fooling around I did during my studies and apprenticeship is behind me. I'm an adult now. I have a task to fulfill, Caesar has faith in me. This is my big chance.  
" _I'm_ certainly feeling distracted," Oursenplus continued.  
Anglaigus felt a big, warm hand on the small of his back and then he leant in and kissed the centurion.  
The tongue meeting his own was soft and cautiously probing and he moaned softly into the waiting mouth. The hand on the small of his back moved further down and cupped his ass.

He broke off the kiss and instead began kissing his way down the throat, across the smooth chest, further down across the firm belly. He paused around the bellybutton and noticed how Oursenplus' breathing already seemed laboured. Anglaigus gently cupped the linen-clad bulge. The centurion seemed to be at least half-hard already. He could feel his own cock strain against his clothes and shifted a bit.  
Then he kissed his way further down, down below the belly button, down towards the waistband. Tugging at the drawstring he managed to free the erection. No column, no arch, nothing man-made could compete with the beauty of a hard cock, he thought. And this was no exception. He ran his fingers over the gentle curve, savouring the feel of the velvety soft skin.  
He kissed his way further down over the smooth abdomen until he reached the balls. Nipping gently at the impossibly soft skin he heard Oursenplus take in a sharp breath of air. Of course. He wasn't supposed to want to do, nor know how to do, these things.  
Straightening up he took the cock in his mouth while caressing the base of it and the surrounding skin. The centurion moaned quietly and the sound went straight to Anglaigus' own cock.  
It was so wrong, this. So, so wrong and so, so right. For a moment the damned trees were not at the forefront of his mind at all.  
He felt hands tugging at his shoulders and he got to his feet. The centurion was blushing and out of breath and he silently pulled his tunic over his head. Then he pushed Anglaigus' _braccae_ down and squeezed his ass.  
"I can't say I blame the Gauls' dog," he muttered. "Your ass is awfully inviting."  
Anglaigus wanted to say something, anything, to shut Oursenplus up for bringing that mutt and that most undignified situation up again, but he found words failed him. Instead he found himself straddling the other man and being pressed up against all that smooth skin, their cocks rubbing together. Sitting on top of him in a chair like this wasn't enough. He wanted more, he wanted more contact with the skin.  
He pressed kisses against the freshly shaved throat and heard himself moan quietly "Fuck me, just fuck me."  
Oursenplus arched an eyebrow. "Really?" he muttered. "Like, now? Am I deemed useful enough for that in the eyes of Caesar's chosen architect?"  
Anglaigus nodded, deliberately overhearing the small barb directed at him. "Yes, like now."

Soon he found himself in the centurion's bed with a couple of well-oiled fingers up his ass preparing him. Anglaigus tossed and turned, grabbing fistfuls of the bedspread and trying hard not to make too many sounds. Tents were not very soundproof after all.  
"Get on with it," he gasped impatiently. The fingers were nice, yes, but he wanted that cock, and he wanted it now.  
"Very well," he heard Oursenplus mutter before he removed his fingers and instead pushed his cock inside him.  
Anglaigus felt his eyes roll back in his head at the sensation of being filled like that and pulled himself up to a sitting position. Running his hands over the smooth chest again, he moaned against the centurion's broad neck. Yes, yes, yes.  
Uncooperative slaves? What uncooperative slaves? All that mattered right now was getting fucked, dignity and good family background be damned.  
He was pushed back onto his back and hooked his legs around Oursenplus' waist as the centurion fucked him. Calloused thumbs brushed over his nipples and he bit his lower lip to not moan too loud, as the sensations shot straight to his cock, making it throb.  
Oursenplus was strangely gentle for a battlehardened soldier, Anglaigus thought, as the broad hands gripped his hips for better leverage. Not that he had much experience fucking that kind of people, but he had expected more hair pulling, spit for lube and getting pushed roughly face down in the pillows.  
He shivered and gasped as Oursenplus leant down and brushed his lips across the skin of his neck and then further up nibbled at the shell of his ear.  
Anglaigus arched his back and whimpered as another roll of the centurion's hips brought him closer to release.  
"Come for me, little architect," he heard Oursenplus purr and for some reason that plea brought him over the edge, spilling all over his hand and belly, clutching the corner of a pillow with his right hand. He vaguely noticed how the centurion sped up his thrusts a bit, until he also came, his eyes closed, mouth dropping open and with a choked groan.  
For a moment his mind was wonderfully blank. All he noticed was how the sun had risen more, hitting the top of the tent, making the room glow warmer.

The centurion collapsed on top of him, and for a while they lay there, gradually coming down. He could feel the bald head against the side of his face and feel the other's heartbeat against his own chest. The feeling of the hairless body against his own was exquisite, even after he'd come. He slowly ran his hands down over the broad, muscular back, trailing the lines with his fingers. When his hands reached the buttocks, he felt Oursenplus shift and grab his hands, removing them.  
"That's a no go, architect," he heard him mutter.  
Not long after, he got up and off Anglaigus. Went over to the bathtub in the corner and washed himself off, and then proceeded to get dressed for real this time. It was strangely sad seeing him put on item after item, finishing with the cuirass and cloak. After he'd strapped it on, he silently handed Anglaigus a washcloth so that he also could wash off and get dressed.  
Anglaigus had only just sat up to put on his _braccae_ when the tent door was pushed open and that legionary with the horrible, shrill voice entered the tent. For a fleeting moment something that looked an awful lot like envy flitted across his face, then he straightened, saluted and stuck his nose up.

"When you're done fucking the annoying, little architect, sir, your presence is needed out here," he exclaimed, and not waiting for an answer, disappeared again.

Oursenplus glanced in Anglaigus' direction and straightened his cloak. Sighed and squared his shoulders.  
"Make sure the bedspread's all neat and straightened out, will you?" he asked. Then he put on his helmet and left the tent.  
Anglaigus sighed and pulled on his clothes. Better luck tomorrow.


End file.
